


dangerous woman

by goddcoward



Series: i hate you, i love you (i hate that i love you) [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: BDSM, F/F, Genderswap, Lingerie, MadaTobi Week 2019, Marriage Proposal, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Sex Toys, everything is better when it's lesbians :-)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2020-10-04 03:57:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20464631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddcoward/pseuds/goddcoward
Summary: Madara is a yakuza boss and Tobirama is a forensic scientist working to expose her life of crime. Unfortunately for her, she’s also Madara’s beloved girl; they dance a dangerous dance with Madara riding the line of too far gone to save and Tobirama always coming dangerously close to solving the unsolvable cases her lover leaves behind. Every time she gets too close, Madara is there to make her disappear for a week or so, a week where she teaches her little wife exactly who she belongs to, exactly what she was put on the earth to do.She’s Madara’s. She exists to please Madara. She’s Madara’s pretty bride, Madara’s beloved bitch; everything else is just - peripheral.Everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok so i really couldn't resist fellas. i tried. i tried. and then drelfina posted that lesbian madatobi sex fic and i cracked like a fucking egg under the pressure of my madatobi-obsessed dyke mind wanting to write this
> 
> it's probably gonna end up at around 10k. im fairly certain they're going to get married at some point
> 
> this first chapter is pretty short but i think it establishes what it needs to. there's no porn yet but hold onto your hats fellas because im gay and i love tiddies and it's going to Show

Madara thumps her head against her desk, groaning like a malcontent spirit and trying not to explode from sheer frustration. It’s been six entire days since she’s seen her girl, and she’s certain that she’s suffering from a particularly acute case of Tobirama-withdrawal; her symptoms intensify with every hour she spends deprived of the presence of her koibito, and it’s been approximately one hundred and forty-four hours.

The desire to kiss that stupid pale face and hold that stupid bastard Senju grows exponentially as more time passes, and she’s not sure that she can physically contain her sheer need anymore. It would embarrass her, just how reliant she is on her girl, but Tobirama is _her girl,_ and theirs is a bond that can’t be denied. 

It can’t be denied, but Madara would be lying if she said that she didn’t think it was being tested at the moment – Tobirama hasn’t answered or even read thirty-two texts, has completely ignored fifteen voicemails, and is generally behaving like she’s fallen off the face of the Earth, which is unacceptable! She’s Madara’s _girl!_ Her only job is to be with Madara, to love Madara, to please Madara, to suffocate Madara with her gorgeous breasts—

“My god,” says Izuna from somewhere above her slumped form, voice warm with amusement, “you’re like an addict. Seriously, Ane-ki, this is bad. She’s just working. You know how she gets.”

“We had a _date,”_ Madara moans, peeling herself off the desk so that she can collapse bonelessly to the floor, face buried in the carpeting of her office. “She blew me off for work and we had a _date.”_

“The end of the world,” her brother says gravely, and she remembers that it’s been some time since he was violently reacquainted with the koi.

“Do you think she might have _died?”_ she whispers, eyes going wide with alarm as she looks up at Izuna, and his face actually twists into something like _regret _at that, and _no_. “No, no, otouto, don’t tell me-!”

He looks down at her, quirking an eyebrow. “I’m sure that the Senju is _fine,_ Ane-ki. I was just thinking about how sad it would be if she _did_ die without me getting the chance to bury my face in those great big tits – _ow, _fuck, uncalled for!”

Madara picks up her high heel with dignity and grace, glaring at her brother with her most menacing look and absolutely not betraying the fact that she’s thought about doing that herself many times.

There’s a key difference: only _Madara_ is allowed to think those things about Tobirama. Izuna already _has_ a Senju with _great big tits._

“Hashirama would be so upset to hear you talking about his little sister in such a vulgar way,” she sneers, delighting in the way Izuna immediately goes chalk-white and board-stiff at the mention of what kind of attitude his boyfriend has for people who make comments about Tobirama’s impressive chest.

She remembers the ambassador from Suna, remembers all the politicking they’d had to do to keep Hashirama from being tried for assault after the man mentioned something about Tobirama’s breasts in front of him, and then she’s sad again, because she can’t laugh with her girl about it, and Tobirama loves nothing more than talking about the idiotic things her anija does in her defense.

“Hashirama isn’t here,” Izuna says, snotty, dodging Madara’s other shoe by bare centimeters, “and if he were, I’d be a little busy getting rawed within an inch of my life. Have you _seen_ that man, Ane-ki? Have you seen his _muscles?”_

“Seen them, felt them, got the t-shirt,” Madara dismisses, picking herself up off the floor with a valiant effort and returning to her desk chair so that she can check her phone again.

No new messages, and the urge to bang her head against the desk again is strong, but she’s a professional, damnit, a leading industrial executive and the first female kumichō in the history of the Akatsuki. 

…First female kumichō, meaning that she _is_ a kumichō, and that she has all of the resources at the Akatsuki at her fingertips: if she can’t count on Tobirama to report to her like a good girl, she can always have her subordinates go and pick her up. 

“You’ve figured it out,” Izuna says, and when she looks over at him, there’s a bright red gleam in his dark eyes. He knows.

Madara grins, shark-like and feral. “Summon Sasori and Deidara, little brother. I have a job for them.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the madatobi discord server lulu mentioned titty tobirama and although the discussion was in reference to serendipity i realized just now that it's absolutely perfect for lesbo tobi. madara is into boobs in every universe conceivable

Tobirama wakes after another five-day research spree to the scents of jasmine and woodsmoke, the sensation of silk against her naked skin, and the sight of her girlfriend in a tight navy-blue bustier, and immediately she knows she’s gone too far.

She’s usually good about communication, has made a point to keep on top of it since that last time she stayed in the lab for a week straight without talking to anyone, but it’s too late as she realizes that her phone died three hours into the first day, that she hadn’t charged it or even looked at it, that Madara will be _mad_ at her for ignoring her for so long.

She’s been a bad girl, and she’s going to be punished.

“Sasori and Deidara certainly took their time getting you here,” Madara drawls without looking up from her phone, mane of dark hair spilling over her shoulders, patent black stilettos shining in the candlelight. “Did you give them trouble again, Tobirama?”

Not _pet,_ not _Tobira-chan,_ not _beloved;_ she’s really in it this time.

She considers being contrary, trying to lure Madara away from her device and over to the bed by spreading her legs and whining, but that will only make her punishment more severe, and the question was rhetorical anyway; she’s clearly not done talking. Besides, this time she really did go too long without sleeping, and the exhaustion has sunk into her very bones. She doesn’t feel like rebelling right now.

“…I’ll take your silence as a yes. Get showered and put on what I’ve set out for you, and then we’re going to have a discussion about your work habits.” She looks up from her phone, and the anger in her eyes cuts deeper than all of her words combined; Tobirama is Madara’s faithful girl, she never _means_ to upset her, she simply got so absorbed into working on that one research grant that the time flew by until she just passed out—

“Yes, Mistress,” she says softly, slipping out of the bed where she’d awoken and making her way to the bathroom. She can’t feel Madara’s eyes following her ass, a troublesome sign.

Madara’s shower is obscenely luxurious, and Tobirama wastes nearly an hour standing beneath its spray, letting water run through her thick white hair until it’s soaked and dripping, trying to prepare herself for punishment in a place where she knows Madara won’t be looking but unable to summon anything beyond trepidation. Steam coils around her legs, lobster-red from the unforgiving heat of the water, but the grueling temperature is nothing compared to what devious designs Mistress has in mind for her.

She lingers only long enough for her to soothe her anxieties – too much time won’t be good, since Madara’s never patient even at her best – before stepping out, shivering, darting for the fluffy, warm towels on the counter.

Tobirama, of course, is a good girl, even when she disobeys, and it’s hardly a matter of five minutes before she’s toweled off and blow-dried and facing the underclothes that have been chosen for her today.

Madara – Mistress, now, it’s really better for Tobirama to get into the proper mindset before she presents herself for punishment – always says that red is her best color, and little to her surprise, that’s what’s been laid out.The bra is sheer and lacy and trimmed in a deep, somber scarlet, just like the panties and the stockings, all of them patterned with delicate floral brocade. The entire set is gorgeous, really, even the garter belt, but she feels nothing but trepidation as it slides over her skin.

To top it off, a lovely satin-and-lace babydoll, one cut low enough that her breasts are out in the open and short enough that its hem doesn’t quite reach her hips.

She’s due a lesson. It’s entirely possible that the lingerie will be in tatters by the time Mistress is done with her. Briefly she mourns – she does so love beautiful underwear – but she can practically hear Mistress stewing out in the bedroom, and it would be wise to waste no more of her time. She’s already mad enough.

Mistress’s glittering ebony irises reflect the red of the lamps she’s turned on today, and for half a moment Tobirama imagines that she sees sharply hooked apostrophe markings rotating around her pupils with nauseating speed—

_Master’s cock is a familiar, welcome sensation as it plunges in, but even as he writhes Tobirama can’t tear his eyes away from the vermillion of his activated Sharingan._

_He’s gorgeous, captivating, so powerful and yet so meticulous in how he treats Tobirama. He’s never left with any more pain than he asks for, never made to endure more than he can take unless he wants to, never forced into anything at all. Master is so wonderfully kind and caring – Tobirama is the luckiest man on the planet to be his pet._

_“Look at me, pet,” Master rumbles, and his eyes flicker up to meet the hypnotic spin of the dōjutsu. He’d had to unlearn two and a half decades of shinobi conditioning to be able to manage it, but the penultimate show of trust delights Master like little else can, and that had made it easy. “Ah, there we go, lovely. You said you wanted to try something different this time, right?”_

_“Reality fragmentation,” Tobirama says, proud to hear that it only comes out a little bit desperate. “The properties of a genjutsu like the Tsukuyomi allow for fantasy immersion on a level hereto unheard of—”_

_Master laughs at him, snapping his hips forward in such a way that he chokes on his words. “Yes, nerd, that. Do you want to pick the scenario, or should I? You’ve had a very long day with all those meetings, I know.”_

_Tobirama clenches down around the delicious searing length filling him full, enjoying the way Master hisses in his pleasure. He’s not sure, really, doesn’t want to choose, but—_

_Master always takes such good care of him, and Tobirama is never afraid to relinquish control if he’s handing it over to his master. The man would die violently before hurting him in a way he didn’t want._

_“Overwhelmed, hmm, my lovely? Would you like it if I took charge this time?”_

_Words are beyond him. The dizzying idea of allowing himself to be trapped in a genjutsu like the Tsukuyomi combined with the heady pleasure of knowing he’ll be fucked throughout the entire experience is just too much. He nods._

_“Perhaps another universe, one where ninja don’t exist…?”_

—but in a flash, it’s gone, and she shakes her head, dispelling the odd haze that had come over her.

Mistress raises one perfectly plucked brow at her, raking in the sight of her standing there and shaking in her lingerie. Her eyes linger on Tobirama’s cleavage, inked skin still slightly damp from the shower, and are drawn like a magnet to the way the fabric of the babydoll clings to her curves.

There is no praise before she motions for her to come and kneel before her on the floor. She hasn’t earned any, and Mistress is not in the mood for giving out compliments that aren’t deserved.

Tobirama blinks, dropping to her hands and knees and crawling into position between Mistress’s powerful thighs, resting her cheek on a thickly muscled leg and staring up at her in a manner that’s almost daringly coquettish, given how meek and shy she should be acting in lieu of her earlier behavior.

Mistress’s dark gaze flickers over her figure, and one flawlessly manicured hand tips Tobirama’s chin up until they’re making proper eye contact. “Color?”

She closes her eyes and breathes. Tonight, she knows, will be brutal.

She can’t ever recall a time when she’s been so excited.

“Green.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading my overindulgent lesbian fic :-) i hope you enjoyed!


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